Mad About You

by Alyssa Dean

  "Of course."

  "And didn't you get sick?"

  The prickles returned to his neck in full force. "I get motion sickness on boats," he growled. "I won't on a horse!"

  "You will!" she assured him. "It's a problem all Wizards share. You will sicken when you cross water, unless you're with an Ayaldwode."

  "Oh, for Pete's sake, Faye, why should that make any difference?"

  Her cheeks were stained red with annoyance. "Because one way or another, all Ayaldwodes are part water nymph."

  "Isn't that handy?" Kent rolled his tongue around his cheek. "Do you take turns popping out of the river to hand out motion-sickness potions?"

  "No," Faye said very seriously. "We take turns knocking impudent Wizards into the river and seeing if they float." She batted her lashes at him, and he wasn't quite sure if she was serious.

  "I can swim," he reminded them both.

  "That won't help if a water nymph gets cross with you!"

  "Oh." He inched closer and pressed his lips against her temple. "How about if they like you? Huh?"

  Her slight body gave a small, delicious shiver. "Then you can't drown," she breathed. She raised her lashes, showing two mischievous eyes. "But you can get awful wet."

  "In that case, I'll stop annoying you." He took a slow, sweet kiss from her, then pulled them both to a stand and helped her onto the mare. She patted the space behind her bottom. "Come on. We can both ride Katlin across."

  Kent hesitated for a moment, uncertain of his next move. He couldn't actually recall ever riding a horse over a river, but he was pretty certain it wasn't going to make him turn green and throw up, which is what happened every time he got near a boat. If he really wanted to put a stop to this Wizard business, he could get on Kalli and ride alone. He wouldn't get sick, she'd be convinced, and…

  And he didn't know if he wanted to do that. From macadamia nuts to magical lovemaking, he had all the qualifications for Wizardhood. He might get a little testy about it, but he'd become accustomed to being her Wizard. Proving he wasn't would serve no useful purpose to her, and, if by some remote fluke he did get sick, he'd have one more chunk of evidence that her little fairy tale was true.

  He looked up into her adorable, expectant face, and vaulted onto the mare, smiling as he fitted his body behind hers.

  He could masquerade as a Wizard a little while longer.

  Chapter Nine

  Faye carefully parted the branches and peeked past them into the Taggert yard. There was a fifty-year-old, two-story house, painted red and white, a bright red barn off to one side, a garage at the back the same color, and numerous small buildings behind that. A graveled drive circled in from the roadway. Two vehicles were parked there: the Taggerts' yellow truck, and a dark green station wagon.

  Faye and Kent had left the horses about half a mile behind, and covered the remaining distance on foot. There had been no further sign of the helicopter, and there was no sign of anyone at Taggert's place, except for Bill Taggert. The rugged-faced older man was out in the yard, working on his tractor in front of the machine shed, his only company a black Lab. "That's Mr. Taggert," she whispered to Kent.

  "And that looks like Mr. Taggert's dog," he whispered back. "He's coming to say hello."

  Sure enough, the dog wandered over to sniff at their bush. Faye crooned a reassurance, and the dog left without a bark.

  "How did you do that?" Kent hissed.

  "Sheeba and I are old friends," Faye explained. "Well, what are we going to do?"

  Kent scratched his chin. "I'm not walking up to Mr. Taggert and asking him if I can use his phone. That sounds too darn dangerous for all of us. Besides, I'm not certain his phone is such a good idea. It's probably tapped."

  "Oh." Faye rubbed her arms, trying to warm them, to dispel the sudden feeling of panic. "What will we do, then?"

  Kent's fingers traced the line of his jaw. "If Taggert needed a part for his tractor, where would he go?"

  Faye shrugged. "Into town, I imagine."

  "All right. Let's do that, then."

  "Do what?"

  "Break his tractor, and convince him he should drive into town. If we're lucky, we can hitch a ride without him even knowing it."

  Faye gave him a brilliant smile. "You are a terrific Wizard, Kent."

  He ruffled her hair and grinned, but made no effort to correct her.

  Less than twenty minutes later, they were bumping along in the back of Taggert's old yellow Dodge pickup, hiding underneath a tarp along with a toolbox, bits of hay and straw, and some earthy smells. Sitting guard for them, on the edge of the tarp, was Sheeba.

  The truck slowed to a stop and Faye stiffened. "Why are we stopping?" she hissed. "We can't be in town yet. What's happening?"

  "How should I know?" Kent whispered back. "I'm in here with you, remember?" He rubbed a thumb along the jumping pulse in her wrist, and she relaxed. Kent's plan had worked perfectly so far. He'd used his telekinetic ability to break a part on the tractor, and then stared at Bill Taggert with total concentration until the older man found the problem. Kent hadn't explained to her how he'd done that, and she hadn't asked. When Taggert stomped into the house to tell his wife he was going to town to get a part, Faye and Kent had slipped into the back of the pickup.

  The truck was at a dead stop now, and Faye could hear footsteps on the gravel road, followed by Taggert's gruff voice. "What's going on?"

  "FBI," said a male voice.

  "FBI?" Taggert repeated. "What're you folks doing way out here?"

  There was a rustle of paper. "Have you seen this man?"

  "Nope. Who is he?"

  "Name's Kent MacIntyre. He's wanted in Denver for assault and robbery. He was sighted in this area yesterday."

  Faye began a gasp that was terminated by Kent's hand over her mouth. She swallowed hard, trying to control her alarm.

  "What would he be doing up here?" Taggert asked suspiciously. "None of us got nothing to steal, unless he's a cattle rustler."

  "We believe he's abducted a Faye Maxwell."

  "Miss Faye?" Taggert's voice was pure disbelief. "Naw. Can't be with her. Couldn't get to her place if she didn't want him to. And little Miss Faye, well, she don't hang around with robbers."

  "That's our information." The man sounded a bit annoyed. Faye smiled to herself. The people of Neverdale were her friends. The Alchemist should know that. "You alone in there?" the man demanded.

  "Yep. All alone."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Town," Taggert grunted.

  "Why?"

  "Need som'in."

  There was a long, impatient hiss. "I'd like to check the back of your truck."

  "Go ahead."

  Footsteps sounded around the side of the pickup. Faye felt Kent's shoulders tense, and gave her head a slight shake. "Sheeba," she mouthed to Kent. "Don't worry." Sure enough, the dog growled a warning.

  "Can you call off your dog here?" the man shouted.

  "Well, now," Taggert drawled. "Old Sheeba, there, she just don't like strangers. Ain't much I can do about it. Kinda agree with her about that, myself."

  Sheeba's warning growl turned into a full-fledged fit of barking.

  "Seems to me if she don't like strangers, she wouldn't sit in the back of my truck with one," Taggert declared.

  "All right!" A foot stomped childishly. "Go on, then. If you see anything, let us know right away. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. After all, this Kent MacIntyre's a dangerous character."

  "So's m'dog," Taggert grunted, his voice sounding rather amused. The pickup started down the road again.

  Kent hugged Faye tightly against him. "How did you get that dog to bark?" he whispered in her ear.

  "I told you, Sheeba and I are friends," she whispered back. "What are we going to do?"

  "If we're lucky, Taggert will park someplace private, and we'll get a chance to sneak out of here."

  "And if we're not lucky?"

  Kent grinned. "Have your sleepin
g powder ready, honey, and hope my magnetic field has been fully restored!"

  It was the fastest trip to town Faye had taken in a long time. Her own truck was very old, and didn't go at any great speed. Mr. Taggert must be in a hurry to get that tractor part, she thought. She'd reimburse him for it, and take him over some of that rhubarb jam he liked so much.

  The pickup slowed to enter town, and then stopped, but the engine didn't turn off, and there was no sound of a door opening. Instead, the horn beeped a couple of times, there was a short wait, then someone approached the truck. "How do, Bill," grunted a voice. "Whaddaya want?"

  "That's Mr. Norton," Faye whispered to Kent. "He owns the garage in Neverdale."

  "Like to bring the truck inside," said Taggert.

  "You're going to let me work on your truck?" Mr. Norton sounded as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Well, this day should be marked down in history. First the FBI, then Bill Taggert's gonna let me look at his truck!"

  "FBI's been here?" Taggert drawled thoughtfully. "What for?"

  "Claim some yahoo abducted little Miss Faye. Kinda hard to believe, but…"

  "They stopped me on the road," said Taggert. "Wanted to check my truck, but old Sheeba back there wasn't having none of it."

  "That so?" There was a pregnant pause. "Well, you just pull right on in, Bill. I'D be closin' the door behind you. Bet you don't want anyone else to know you: had me look at your truck."

  "Oh, damn," Kent muttered.

  "It's all right," Faye whispered back. "These people are my friends."

  The pickup slid into the garage, there was the sound of an overhead door closing, then the engine switched off. Taggert got out of the vehicle, Kent stiffened, and Faye patted his hand. "It's okay," she whispered again in his ear. There was silence, the murmur of men's voices.

  A number of footsteps returned to the truck. "It's okay," Faye called. "It's just me." She ignored Kent's hissed breath, and pushed aside the tarp to pat Sheeba's head. "Thank you," she murmured gratefully.

  "Well, Miss Faye," Taggert drawled. "I kinda thought you were in there when Sheeba put up such a fuss. You all right?"

  "I'm fine." Faye stood and brushed the dust off her slacks. Beside her, Kent was slowly getting to his feet, his dark eyes flashing his concern.

  "Who's that with you?" Taggert demanded.

  "Oh, this is Kent MacIntyre." Faye motioned around the group, consisting of Mr. Taggert, a sandy-haired, angular man of about thirty, and a short man of about the same age, with his arm around the shoulders of a plump, red-haired woman. The sandy-haired man had an old shotgun of some sort that he was pointing straight at Kent's head. Beside the woman were two redheaded children, staring with wide blue eyes from Faye to Kent and back again.

  Faye performed the introductions. "Kent, this is Mr. Taggert, and Mr. and Mrs. Norton, and their children, Sandra and Timmy. Oh, and the man with the rifle is Matt Jamison."

  Kent nodded silently at the group.

  Taggert took a step toward them. "You this MacIntyre fellow those phony-baloney FBI goons are looking for?"

  "That's right." Kent held both of his hands in front of his chest. "I'm not armed, sir, and I am really not all that dangerous. However, those men—"

  "Sure as hell don't work for the FBI," Taggert interrupted. "Who are they?"

  "They're after me," Eaye explained. "I hope you don't mind us getting a ride with you. We had to get into town and we didn't want to involve you in this."

  "Pleased to help you out," Taggert said, nodding. His eyes squinted into a frown as he studied her. "What happened to your face?"

  Faye's fingers went to the bruise on her right cheek. "Some men came to my house. They had a helicopter and they wanted me to give them something." She slid an arm around Kent and grabbed a handful of shirt. "Kent stopped them."

  "Did he, now? And how did he do that?"

  Faye looked up at Kent. His clothes were covered with dust, he could definitely use a shave, and she thought he looked capable of handling a million of Collingswood's men. "Why, he's a Wizard, Mr. Taggert," she exclaimed. "He can do anything."

  "When I got there, they were dragging her toward the helicopter and I managed to stop them," Kent concluded. "We headed over to Taggert's place and snuck a ride here."

  The tall sandy-haired man named Matt crossed his arms over his checkered shirt. "Where'd you two spend the night?"

  "In the woods," Kent said easily.

  Matt gave Kent a look of stern disapproval, and Kent grinned at him. They were in the corner of Hank Norton's garage, right in front of the workbench, which was filled with a random assortment of parts in various states of disrepair. On the wall hung about fifty old calendars, all featuring well-developed women with nothing covering their assets. Kent was leaning against a wall, surrounded by a semicircle of men: Bill Taggert, Hank Norton and Matt Jamison. Faye was in a back room with the two children and their mother. She hadn't wanted to leave Kent, but the youngsters had begged so sweetly for one of her stories that she'd finally given in, after he—and the other men—had assured her he was in no danger.

  So far, Kent didn't appear to be. He'd told the men the bare bones of the story—a group of thugs had flown up to Faye's place and attacked her, requesting secret information that had belonged to her father. Kent wasn't sure how much of it they believed, and he didn't much care. Right now, all he wanted was to get to a phone and talk to Dan.

  Matt looked up and down Kent's narrow frame with frank disbelief. "How'd you get her away from four armed men?"

  "They weren't that smart," Kent growled. "listen, I don't want to involve you people. I just need to use a phone. There must be police…"

  Matt thrust his tongue into his cheek. "There's police somewhere. Highway patrol, too—but there's no one in town right now. As for the phone, well, they're all down."

  "Really?" Kent drawled. "All of them?" He flicked his gaze around the group, assessing the probability that this was the truth.

  "That's right," Norton said, nodding. "They've been down since last night. It happens sometimes, usually in winter, when we get a blizzard."

  From the open door of the back room, Kent could hear Faye's voice, spinning a tale to the children. "And then, four evil men came down from the sky, and captured the princess…" Kent felt something squeeze painfully in his chest at the sound. He gave himself a mental shake. "So there're no phones in Neverdale, eh?"

  "Don't look like it," Bill Taggert drawled. "Somethin' seems to have happened to the main line." He winked at Kent. "Maybe the FBI had somethin' to do with it."

  "Maybe." It was a possibility.

  "Town's full of those FBI folks, too," Norton went on. "They've been everywhere, asking everyone about Faye and about you." He hooked his thumbs into the belt sagging below the bulge of his belly. "Now, Faye there, well, she's a special little lady, all right. None of us want to see anything happenin' to her. That right, boys?"

  "Right enough," Taggert agreed. "Why, I never forgot the way old Glen helped me with my well. As for you, Hank, no one would have found that little boy of yours when he wandered off. He'd have died if Faye there hadn't found him for you."

  Hank nodded at Kent. "If Faye says you're who you say you are, well, that's good enough for me." A car pulled up in front of Hank's pumps, heralded by the ringing of the inside bell. Hank swore. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder as he headed out to the front. "Don't do nothin' without me."

  "We're not going to do anything, period!" Matt announced. He turned to Taggert. "Those men told you this character here was a criminal. Right?"

  "That's true," Taggert replied. "But—"

  "And they were hiding in the back of your truck," Matt continued. He looked accusingly at Kent. "We don't know this man. This… MacIntyre, here, has obviously taken advantage of Faye." He leered. "In more ways than one."

  Kent lunged out from the wall, and Taggert put a hand in front of his chest. "Calm down, now. Matt don't mean nothing. He's just got aspira
tions towards Miss Faye himself. Ain't that so, Matt?"

  Matt scowled. "I just don't think we should help a criminal. Faye can hide out at Hank's place until—"

  "Forget it!" Kent shook his head. "The lady stays with me, and I'm not hanging around, thanks."

  "Why not?" Matt demanded. "If you're who you say you are, you should want to wait for the police."

  "For how long?" Kent retorted. "You said the place was filled with those men. We'd be lucky to stay out of sight for two hours, much less the twenty-four it'll probably take for the phones to get repaired."

  There was dead silence. The clock on the wall ticked with unnecessary loudness. From the other room, came the soft trill of Faye's voice. No one said a word. Kent shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if Norton was now telling another neighbor about his unexpected guests. Faye's voice stopped, a child screamed, then the redheaded boy dashed from the back room. "Daddy!" he hollered. "Sandra hit me."

  Taggert reached out an arm, and missed both kids. The woman ran past after the children, and the front door slammed. "You haven't seen any strangers in town?" asked a man's voice.

  "Ain't seen no one," Norton drawled. "That'll be twelve dollars even. Hey, Timmy, stop that."

  "But Sandra hit me," the youngster's voice whined.

  The woman disappeared from view into the front. "Come on, you two. You come with me."

  "But Sandra hit me," the child wailed. "I missed the end of Faye's story."

  "Well, he bit me!" Sandra countered. "I missed the end too. Look at my arm, Dad."

  Kent winced, hoping desperately that the man wouldn't pick up on the child's revelation. For a second, he thought it might be all right. Then came Norton's voice—"Get your hand off my boy!"—followed by a woman's scream.

  "Is there a back door?" Kent mouthed.

  Taggert gestured toward the dark hall to their right leading past the storage room. "Down there," he muttered under his breath. Kent took a couple of running steps, then stopped and turned. Taggert and Matt were striding toward the front. Matt was carrying his shotgun.

  Kent sighed and shook his head. He couldn't leave these people to take the heat for him. He dashed past them, heard a scream from outside, and took a brief, careful peek out the scratched glass of the overhead door.